


Hand in Unsteady Hand

by popsicletheduck



Series: Inextricable [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: ACAB, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Claire is pragmatic, Developing Sibling Dynamics, Dissociation, Game: Resident Evil 2 Remake (2019), Gen, I feel like Irons needs his own warning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Leon A/Claire B but mushed into a single run, Leon just wants to save everyone, Major Character Injury, but pretty light on the comfort tbh, lots of questioning of self preservation vs self sacrifice, pretty much canon but with a twist. spicy canon, they both have their issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popsicletheduck/pseuds/popsicletheduck
Summary: “Go on ahead! I’ll meet you at the station!”“I’ll be there!”It’s a promise, even half unspoken, and Leon Kennedy is not the kind of man to break a promise.Besides, surviving the end of the world might be just a little easier with someone at your side.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy & Claire Redfield, Sherry Birkin & Claire Redfield, Sherry Birkin & Leon S. Kennedy
Series: Inextricable [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942090
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. RPD HQ SOS

**Author's Note:**

> So this series is canon divergence, but we’re not going to do any major diverging for a while. Most of the major events in Raccoon City still play out similar to canon, it’s not until we get through that that things take a turn. So why write this first part at all? One, because I want to, which is always reason enough. Two, because I was at one time trying very hard to make sense of the timeline and eventually said fuck it and decided this was the easiest way to make everything fit. And three, because I want Leon and Claire to be friends and this is how I’ve chosen to do so: bonding through trauma.  
> A lot of the dialogue early on comes direct from the game, with alterations as I saw fit. I did get rid of some of the more game mechanic-y bits (sorry herbs) but tried to hint at as many others as possible. I even tried to keep item placements the same, except where I decided not to for story or coherency reasons. In essence, this is my love letter to RE2 remake, except it’s a love letter where I also point out all its flaws and how it could be better.  
> Cheers, RE2 remake. You made zombies gross and Leon hot and sometimes you made zero goddamn sense.

The sound of the crash was still ringing in his ears as Leon swept his flashlight over the wreckage. It was a stupid hope that the pilot might have survived, that they weren’t one more casualty on an ever growing list of casualties that he couldn’t do anything to stop-

“Hey! Leon?” 

He rushed over to the edge of the balcony, something that might have been relief and something that might have been hope mingling in his breath.

“Claire! Hold on, I’ll be right there!”

“Okay!”

From a quick visual sweep as he ran down the stairs the courtyard seemed to be mercifully empty, although the niggling voice of caution in the back of his head warned that the noise from the crash may still attract a horde. The rain was still pouring, slicking metal and stone to an eerie glow in the light from the streetlamps. At least out here it didn’t reek of death and rot. At least out here for a moment the world wasn’t quite ending.

“Claire. It’s so nice to see you.” He meant it. Sure, there was still a metal gate standing between them, but just knowing that she was okay, that she was still alive, loosened a tightness in his chest. Dirty and dripping from the rain, but still alive. She was one person he hadn’t failed yet, a statistic that was dropping by the second.

“How’re you doing?” she asked. “That helicopter just came out of nowhere…”

“Yeah, I’m in one piece.” If only a crashing helicopter was the worst thing he’d seen in the last few hours.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a key in one of those fancy pockets?”

“No, but,” Leon pulled out the bolt cutters he found earlier, “I do have these.”

“That’ll work.”

The rainwater started to soak through his pants as he knelt to start cutting through the bottom panel of chain-link mesh, but at least this wire is significantly easier to get through than the chains he had run into before. At least rainwater was cleaner than blood.

He was maybe halfway through when the ground shook, a wall of sound battering his ears, red and white hot reflecting off every rain-wet surface as the crashed helicopter exploded into a ball of flame. Even at this distance Leon could feel the flash of heat against his back. A moment later, unhelpfully, the station’s fire alarms started going off. 

“Damnit,” Leon swore under his breath. Already he could hear the moaning growl of zombies staggering back to their feet. If he just had more time, just a little more time…

“Leon…” Claire said warningly, as she clicked the safety off on her pistol.

“Hold on, I’ve almost got it.” The bottom was free, if he could just get one of the sides…

“Leon.” He couldn’t tear his eyes from his work, but he could hear the growling getting louder, a cacophony of mindless, frenzied rage mixing with the angry groaning of metal struggling to hold back a horde and alarms still blaring. Then gunshots, measured and precise and the sick sound of bullets impacting flesh. The bolt cutters slipped on the wet metal and all Leon could do was keep going, desperation driving him to save someone, just one person, god, let him be able to save one person-

“I got it!” With a metallic creaking lost in the chaos he yanked back on the bottom panel, pulling open a flap with just enough space for a person to crawl through. “I’ll cover you, just get in!”

The zombies were even closer than he imagined, a sea of pale, dead skin smeared with red, rotting fingers reaching as they bared blood stained teeth. 

A flash grenade lobbed over the fence stunned some of them, then it was open fire with Matilda, aiming for heads and legs, anything to slow them down. Leon didn’t let himself think, didn’t let himself do anything but pick a target and fire. He counted his bullets in his head and reloaded and fired and didn’t let himself feel the churning in his gut, heavy with too much that he wouldn't let himself name.

A second set of gunshots joined his own as Claire made it through, a heavy thud from inches behind him as she took down a zombie he hadn’t noticed creeping up. The too-late spike of fear mixed with the potent relief and gratitude of having someone watch his back.

“Thanks!”

“You can thank me when we’re safe,” she echoed his words from earlier back to him.

By the time the two of them got back inside, slamming the door shut and haphazardly nailing some spare boards to the frame in an attempt to keep out more zombies, Leon’s already small stash of ammo had dwindled to worryingly low, and with the hole in the fence the entire courtyard would be a near impassable hellscape soon. But Claire was next to him, shining her flashlight down the dim, blood-stained corridor.

“Not exactly what we were hoping for, is it,” she remarked.

“No, not really. But there’s a secret passage out through the main hall, we just have to finish unlocking it. C’mon, I’ll give you a tour.”

“You got her,” Marvin remarked as Leon led Claire into the relative comfort of the main hall. In here it was almost possible to believe you were safe.

“Yes, sir. Claire, Lieutenant Marvin Branagh.”

Marvin’s pain hazed gaze locked on his. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Leon.”

Every justification, every explanation for dragging Claire through the fence caught in Leon’s throat. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was in so deep he couldn’t even see a hint of the surface. Surely two had a better chance of surviving than one. Surely he hadn’t just doomed her just so he wouldn’t have to face this hell alone.

It was Claire who broke the tense silence. “So you said there was a secret passage out of here.”

He would get her out of here. She would survive. If they were going to do that, they needed a plan.

Leon spread out the maps of the station he had grabbed, trying to ignore the bloodstains and the creases, the scrawled notes left by hands long since dead. He showed her Elliot’s notebook, explained the statues and the medallions and the tunnel to the garage. He pointed out the last statue that he hadn’t gotten to yet, tucked away in the attic behind a barricade rigged with C4. He dug out the detonator he found, in working order except for the missing battery.

Claire was quiet for a moment once he finished. She stared at the map, as if she could force the station to give up its secrets if she just looked hard enough.

“We need to go here,” she said, tapping a room on the west side of the second floor.

_ STARS Office _ , read the slightly faded text. “My brother is STARS. If something happened, then...” She trailed off, unable to voice the worst. And then, as if the thought had just occurred to her, “Lieutenant Branagh? Marvin? Did you know my brother? Chris Redfield?”

Marvin shook his head, wincing at the pain. “I knew of him. Also knew he got suspended two months ago, some incident no one wanted to talk about. Haven’t heard a thing about him or the rest of STARS since then. Sorry.”

“Suspended?” she said quietly, a question to neither of them. “He didn’t-” Claire shook her head, shaking off the confusion and setting her jaw. “We should go anyway. See if he left something there.” Leon was pretty sure she’d tear the whole building to the ground if she thought it would help her find Chris.

“But I can give you this,” Marvin continued, holding out a police radio. “You two will have a better chance if you stick together, so if you get separated, find each other as quick as possible. You watch each other’s backs, you hear?”

They both nodded, Leon pretending he couldn’t feel the churning in his gut. 

Do your job or die trying.

What a hell of a first day.

  
  


Claire was a surprisingly, almost worryingly, good shot for a civilian. She brushed off Leon’s compliment with a small shrug.

“My brother taught me. Lucky for the both of us, huh,” she said.

Leon had already fought and crept and shot and staggered his way through these rooms and halls, but this time, with someone new at his back, he saw all their horrors again. The blood spattered walls, the mangled corpses, the shattered windows and the creeping shadows and the inescapable reek of death. The nightmare he’d stumbled into that he couldn’t wake up from.

The horror of it all built in the back of his throat, a sick bile that flooded his senses. Until slowly the world once again began to fall into the same shades of unreality it had before, a static of distance, a haze of removal. Leon felt like he was watching himself scout corners and stand guard and put bullet after bullet into the heads of monsters who had once been people. He wondered how long he could do this until there was nothing left of him at all, but the fear was distant too. He survived. Everything else was secondary.

His flashlight caught only the corners of desks and the sides of file cabinets as Leon kept watch, alert for the sound of shuffling footsteps or low moaning. Beside him, Claire was digging through some junk drawer he was half convinced he’d been through before, random paper clips and rubber bands and pens and plastic utensils. 

A nine volt battery. That’s what they needed. There had to be one somewhere, tucked in the back corner of some forgotten drawer, dusty and-

Claire broke the silence unexpectedly. “When you said you were a cop, you didn’t mention you were a rookie.” She waved a hand towards the room, a slight sad smile on her face.

Leon knew where they were. He knew where they were and he turned anyway, illuminating the banner in blue and yellow strung across the dark office.

WELCOME LEON

He’d opened his desk already, hands steady as he spun the locks to line up the names of dead coworkers. His desk. The nameplate, his name, new and shiny and unused. The empty, broken promise of what could have been, what should have been.

His hands were shaking. His heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn’t look away from that fucking banner.

WELCOME LEON

A welcome to a hell he wasn’t sure he would survive. His breathing wasn’t right. There were noises from somewhere but he couldn’t make them out, couldn’t remember why they were important, couldn’t think, couldn’t move-

“Leon!”

Claire’s scream cracked whatever paralysis had seized him. He spun, gun already in hand, except it was far too late for that. The zombie had grabbed Claire, dead fingers streaked with grime and gore caught in her jacket, teeth sinking into her neck as she fought for a grip to shove it off.

It was too close to fire, if he tried he had as much chance of hitting Claire as the zombie. Leon’s decision was made before he was fully aware of it, closing the distance as he drew the knife Marvin had given him, the weight of cold steel settling in his grasp. A clatter as the flashlight fell to the floor, casting garbled shadows on the wall, his free hand reaching out, grasping a rough handful of hair thick with sweat and dirt and blood and  _ pulling _ . The zombie’s head snapped back, fresh crimson smeared across its mouth, and Leon jammed the knife through its twitching eye.

The zombie snarled, letting go of Claire to scrabble for him. Leon twisted the knife, twisted and shoved farther, hoping to reach the damned thing’s brain, but still it writhed, screeching and furious. A second stab driving up from under the chin practically decapitated it, and finally it went limp, rotting flesh falling heavily against him. Leon shoved it to the side, the knife pulling free with a wet sound accompanied by grating against bone.

“Claire!”

She’d stumbled back a few steps, one blood smeared hand pressed to the side of her neck. But she was still upright, still breathing. Still alive.

“Thanks for the assist,” she said. “Are you okay?”

There was blood streaked across his hand and the side of his face, thick and cold and already coagulating. Zombies weren’t alive. They didn’t bleed like normal people did. But they did bleed.

“I’m fine, how are you?”

Claire winced as she pulled her hand back, probing at torn flesh. “I think it just broke the skin. Probably looks worse than it is.”

“Hold on, I think I have something for that.”

He doesn’t deserve her gratitude. He’d gotten distracted and she’d paid the price. He was supposed to be watching. He was supposed to be looking out for her.

It wouldn’t happen again. No matter what, Claire Redfield would survive. Leon would make sure of it.

  
  


Their footsteps sloshed through the puddling water on the shower room floor, twin beams of light falling on grimy, cracked tile and a single, still corpse. The light lingered just a moment longer on the corpse to be certain that it really was still. Sometimes it was hard to believe that just days ago this place had been a functioning, living place. Now the whole place felt like a graveyard.

"STARS office is the first door on the left," Leon reminded Claire as they rounded the corner into the corridor. This one seemed clear, which should’ve been a relief, but instead it left him with an uncomfortable unease. Every hallway they’d found so far had been swarming with zombies. Where was... anything?

"Oh my god, Leon," Claire whispered, her voice thick with terror. He glanced back at her, prepared to take down the one person in the world she wouldn't be able to, only to find her staring wide eyed at something on the ceiling.

_ Something _ was pretty much the best description he had of it, beyond maybe  _ what the fuck _ . If it had been human at one time it certainly wasn’t now, four splayed limbs ending in sharp claws currently dug into the ceiling so the whole thing hung upside down like some demented lizard, except a lizard that had no skin at all and also a huge, bulbous brain and an impossibly long tongue that shouldn't actually fit in its mouth. It glistened in the meager light, bloody and raw, a horrible abomination of a thing, a nightmarish creature that shouldn’t be alive.

It also didn't seem to have currently noticed them. A half remembered scrap from a note he read earlier came back to Leon.  _...look like they were skinned alive - “lickers” we call ‘em… blind as bats… hearing more than makes up for it. _

Carefully, slowly, as quietly as he could, Leon holstered Matilda and drew his shotgun, aiming it at the licker.

"When I fire, you run for the office," he whispered to Claire.

"I'm not going to leave you behind to fight that thing!" She pulled back on actually shouting at him, leaving the words a strained, angry whisper.

"I'll be right behind you. Ready?"

Claire shifted on her feet, readjusting her grip on her pistol. "Ready."

The shotgun blast echoed down the corridor, magnified by the tight quarters. The licker screamed, a terrible, animalistic noise as it fell to the floor, righting itself midair to land poised and ready and furious. Claire was already nearly at the door, but Leon found his path blocked by a screeching mass of muscle and claws. He tried to dodge past, firing off a second shot, but god that thing was faster than he thought, so much faster than the regular zombies, and the blast went wide, pockmarking the wall behind. It lunged, outstretched claws streaked with dried blood. Time slowed and warped as every fiber in him screamed to get away, but his body wouldn’t respond fast enough, couldn’t move, couldn’t-

The claws found purchase across his hip and thigh, and Leon stumbled hard as the pain tore through him like lines of fire, nearly sending him flat on his back where he would’ve been easy pickings. But an arm grabbed him from behind, and a series of gunshots cracked from close enough beside him to make his ears ring. Claire dragged him back into the STARS office, dumping him just inside before running back to tip over a neary set of lockers as a makeshift barricade.

The two of them barely breathed, breaths catching in the back of their throats as they waited, guns leveled at the door. They could still hear it on the other side of the door, claws digging into the wood with rasping, splintering sound. The moment seemed to freeze, tension and pain mixing into a thick slurry that slowed the very air.

After an eternity measured in thudding heartbeats, silence returned. The door and its barricade still held.

Claire let out a long breath, the edges catching on something bordering hysteria. "What the fuck was that thing?" she asked.

"I don't know, but let's hope it's gone."

There were three slash marks down his left leg, the fabric of his pants already starting to saturate with blood. Luckily none of them seemed to have hit a major artery or dug too far into the muscle, although it was going to hurt like a motherfucker to run on it.

"How is it?"

"Not that bad. I'm fine." Leon rummaged around in his pockets for the roll of gauze that he picked up earlier.

"Yeah, well, you were almost chow for whatever the hell that was. Here," Claire tossed him a bottle of antiseptic, half empty from cleaning out her own wound earlier.

"Thanks." He set to work, doing what he could. “So this is where your brother worked?”

“Yeah, he… That’s his jacket.”

There was a leather jacket hanging on the wall next to one of the desks, clearly in a place of prominence, ornately embroidered on the back with the words  _ Made In Heaven _ .

Claire took a step closer, seemingly transfixed by it. “He bought it with his first real paycheck. I thought it was the stupidest thing, but he loved it. I didn’t think he’d… he’d leave it behind.”

The quiet admission was heavy with the weight of far too much unsaid, of fear too potent to put into words. Leon fought back a shiver. He wanted to help Claire find her brother, he did. He was just afraid of what would happen if she did.

“That has to be his desk, then. Maybe he left something saying where he went.”

There wasn’t much on his desk. Unlike nearly everything else in the police station, a few desks here seemed consciously left instead of abandoned, papers and folders organized and squared away, every report completed and filed. Like they hadn’t been used in a while. Two months worth of dust coated most of the surfaces.

It was on the next desk over, tucked under a framed picture of a dog, that Leon found something. A letter, addressed  _ To my bestest STARS buds _ , and signed at the end…

“Claire, I think this is from him.”

She snatched the note from his hand, feverishly scanning it. And then reading it again, more slowly. And again, a third time. “It’s his handwriting, but it… doesn’t sound like him. Except right here at the end, where he says he’s okay. Maybe it’s some sort of code?”

“Maybe. But either way, it means he’s not in the city.”

A confused wash of emotion flickered over Claire’s face for a moment, something between relief and disappointment. “I tried to call Jill and she never answered either so I figured something was wrong. I guess something was wrong.” She gestured to the empty office, the flickering lights, the barricaded door and the monsters outside.

Leon gently put a hand on her shoulder, trying to hide his own bone deep relief. “C’mon. Let’s get ourselves out of here so you can find him.”

They searched the rest of the STARS office, turning up a handful of ammo, some more antiseptic spray, and in the commander’s office-

“Leon!” Claire rushed out, triumphantly holding something in one of her hands.

-a battery, the nine volt battery they needed to get the detonator working.

One step closer to a way out.

  
  


The last medallion fit into the last slot with a soft clank, followed by the grinding and groaning of gears as the base of the statue slid down, revealing an ornate metal gate set in among the stone. It was mercifully unlocked, rusted hinges protesting as Leon forced it open. The chill of a basement wafed out from the darkened stairs as he flicked his flashlight on, the light catching a swirl of dust clouds.

“That’s it. That’s our way out.” The passage was supposed to lead through to the parking garage, where they could find a car and start a search for other survivors. The nightmare would be over soon. Unless-

No. No, don’t think about that. There would be other people. They would be able to help. This couldn’t be the end of the world, even if it felt like it.

“Good. We can get out of this hellhole.” The relief in Claire’s voice had a bitter edge to it. Leon understood the feeling. “Hey Marvin!” she called. “Guess what! Think we found a way out!”

The lieutenant. He’d refused both of their attempts at first aid, insisting they keep the supplies for themselves. Time stretched and warped here, but he’d gone unconscious at least an hour ago. His breathing was thin and unsteady, the blood smeared across his hands standing out even more against the ashy color his skin had gone. Leon felt a lead weight settle in his stomach. Marvin’s time was running out, fast.

And when he didn’t respond to Claire’s call, made no movement at all, that lead twisted into something sharp, prepared to tear through his gut. Not now, not now, it couldn’t be now.

“Lieutenant Branagh?”

“Marvin! C’mon, let’s get you out of here, let’s go.” Claire walked over to the bloodstained couch, putting a hand on Marvin’s shoulder. 

Marvin bolted upright, growling in a sickenly familiar way before it morphed into pained breathing. 

Claire stumbled back a step, and Leon hated himself for how his hand twitched towards his gun.

“Are you okay?” Claire asked.

“No, I- Just go. Save yourselves.” Marvin curled into himself, teeth bared in pain.

“C’mon, I’ve got you.” He wasn’t leaving. Leon wasn’t going to leave without Marvin, wasn’t going to abandon his commanding officer. He couldn’t do it, wouldn’t even consider it. He tried to give Marvin a hand up because goddamn it, he’ll carry him to safety if he has to, only for Marvin to jerk away violently.

“Go!” he shouted.

Claire put a hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Leon-”

He wasn’t going. “Look, we can all still make it out of here together, if you’d just give me-”

Leon’s words broke off into a strangled gasp as Marvin turned, gun in hand. A gun aimed directly at Leon’s chest.

The logical part of his brain told him that Marvin wasn’t going to shoot. That he’d been trying to help him and Claire survive, that he was an officer of the law who wouldn’t kill a nonthreatening civilian and a fellow officer. 

But there was a gun aimed at him by a man he’d trusted, for however little time that had been. The fear was practically instinctual. 

“It’s too late,” Marvin said, and his voice shook. “I tried, but I couldn’t stop it. We all know how this is going to end. Get out of the city, both of you.”

“I can’t just leave! There has to be other people, other survivors, what about them?” He couldn’t leave.

“Leon.” Claire says again, tugging at him now. “We should go.”

“No, I’m not just going to-” He turned, finally looking her in the eye, and the words he was about to say died on his tongue. 

There was something awful and sad in her eyes, a determined desperation that shook him to his core. He’d promised himself that Claire would survive this. He couldn’t abandon her now either, even if it tore him to pieces inside to leave anyone else behind in the process.

“We need to go,” she said simply.

He turned back to Marvin. “I’ll come back, I’ll bring help. I can’t- I won’t-”

There was nothing left to say but he tried to find something, scrambling for words that would hold the shattering pieces of himself, but there was nothing, just shadows and lead. Marvin looked at him, the gun unwavering, his face studiously blank save for the lines of pain. 

Leon let Claire pull him away.

As the gate shut behind them, the base of the statue rumbling back into place. Leon turned to watch it close.

“I won’t let you down, Marvin,” he whispered, the promise carving itself into his heart next to the first.

With the finality of a coffin lid closing the stone shut with a thud, sealing them in the darkness with only one way out: forward into the unknown.


	2. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back, and an Unexpected Left Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Leon may have unlocked the station's secret passage, but the station may not be quite done with them yet. Neither is it as empty as it appears.

The secret passage started out as just about what Claire thought a secret passage in an old building should be: bookcases and heavy wood desks and odd old antiques, thick with dust and the smell of old paper. Under different circumstances she would’ve liked to poke into all the odd corners looking for forgotten secrets, but right now all she had eyes for was the elevator tucked into the far end of the room. Taking it down, the only direction it would go, left her and Leon in a decidedly more industrial looking tunnel, metal grates in the floors and ceilings and concrete everywhere else. Their footsteps echoed strangely and she found herself jumping at half imagined noises and the lingering feeling of someone, some _ thing _ , right behind them. The gun in her hand was simultaneously comforting and not enough at all.

But everything down here was clean and empty. No blood stains, no corpses, no sign of human or zombie. It was almost enough to get her to believe that maybe this nightmare would be over soon.

It was up on a gantry overlooking what seemed to be a boiler room of some sort that they found their path blocked by a set of shelves leaning at a drunken angle, papers and folders vomited across the floor in a layer that crunched under their shoes. But they’d had to deal with junk in the way before and so without even having to say anything, Leon moved to shove it back upright while Claire turned to watch his back. But as the shelves fell into place, she just caught a small, frightened gasp from behind her, somewhere within the mess.

“Hello?” Leon called, voice softening. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Claire glanced over his shoulder and there, peeking out from the shadows, was a little girl. She couldn’t have been more than eleven, all wide blue eyes and mussed blonde hair and wrinkled gingham vest.

“My name is Leon Kennedy, I’m a police officer. I’m here to help.”

The girl mouthed something inaudible, fear stealing her words, and Claire felt her heart twist at the sight. This city has been hell for two grown and competent adults. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for a child.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t understand you,” Leon said.

When she found it, the girl’s voice was a scratching whisper. “You need help.”

“Why?”

It was like something out of a nightmare, that awful moment where you know what was going to happen before it happened and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Claire was already turning around when the little girl answered, words she never expected and somehow already knew.

“He’s right behind you.”

“Leon!”

It was still half human, still half a face and half of a torn lab coat and somehow that made it so much worse to see the swollen, bulbous arm, muscle glistening in the dim fluorescent light, huge serrated claws, and the giant, red-tinted eye sitting in its shoulder. It was a grotesque abomination of a thing, already close enough that she could smell blood and gunpowder and sickly sweet rot clinging to it. Claire’s mind went blank, her muscles locking into place. The monster roared, inhuman and bone shaking. 

Something slammed into Claire from the side, sending her crashing into the wall. Her eyes closed, bracing for the feeling of claws tearing into her. But when nothing happened, her eyes snapped open and a different kind of sick dread overtook her. It was Leon that shoved her out of the way, putting himself directly into the thing’s reach to do so. Now the monster was looming over him, human hand fisted in the front of Leon’s uniform, repeatedly slamming him into the walkway. The walkway which was beginning to bend precariously under the onslaught.

“Let him go, you fucking bastard!” Claire fired on the thing at point blank range, a horrible squelching sound as the bullets impacted.

The monster looked up at her, but the damage had already been done. With a clattering shriek the floor gave way, sending both Leon and monster tumbling to the concrete below.

“Stay right there!” Claire shouted at the little girl, drawing her grenade launcher and jumping down.

It wasn’t the best possible landing but she managed to keep her feet, stumbling upright just behind a still prone Leon, who at least had the sense to draw, although most of his shots were going wide.

“Stay down!” Claire warned him, before sending off the shot.

The monster erupted into flame, its cry of pain almost but not quite human. It gave the two of them a chance to scramble back, Leon drawing his shotgun while Claire reloaded.

The thing charged, wielding a length of broken pipe like a club.

“Leon Kennedy,” Claire said as she lined up a second shot, “If we survive this, remind me to yell at you.”

The air reeked with the smell of burnt flesh and echoed with gunshots as the monster stumbled backwards, its eyes darting frantically as it tipped over the railing, disappearing into the dark, a very human sounding scream trailing after it.

“Oh shit. Oh… oh god.” For a moment Claire just breathed, waiting for the pounding of her heart to slow as she lowered her handgun. Leon walked up next to her, shaking his head as he checked his shotgun. 

“That was my last shell, hopefully- ow!” He flinched harder than she expected when she punched him in the shoulder, and belatedly she realized she probably shouldn’t be punching a man who just got pounded through a grating and fell onto concrete, but it was too late for that. And besides, he deserved it.

“What were you thinking, throwing yourself at that thing like that?! You have a gun, use it!”

Leon frowned, rubbing his shoulder. “You were in the way, I didn’t want to-”

“I’m not some damsel in need of rescuing! I can take care of myself!” The high of adrenaline was fading, leaving Claire shaking and angry. That stupid, self-sacrificial shitwad. How could he, how dare he-

“I wasn’t suggesting that you were, I just-”

“Is it safe now?” a small voice came from above just over the noise of their argument.

Claire took a breath, shoved down the fear and the anger and the shaking hands and willed her voice to come out steady and even. “Yeah, it’s over,”

The girl tiptoed out from the shadows, pale face drawn and eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

Leon managed a small smile, which is far more than Claire felt she could. “Yeah, we promise, everything is fine,” he said.

“We just need you to lower that ladder for us,” Claire added. 

The girl considered this, a wary fear mingling with a child’s guileless nature.“Will you help me find my mom?”

“Of course,” Leon said automatically.

God, he was too damn  _ good _ and it was going to get him killed, and sooner rather than later at the rate he was going. Apparently she has to be the voice of reason and caution. If what they had already seen was any indication, then the odds of this girl’s mom being alive and uninfected seemed slim. Claire tried to keep the blatant skepticism out of her voice as she asked, “Your mom is down here?”

“I think so. I hope so.”

“If she is, we’ll find her.” Leon’s statement practically rang with conviction.

It worked, of course. With a thud the ladder fell into place, once again giving them a way forward. Leon gestured for her to head up first, and as she climbed all Claire could do was brace for the next disaster she could already feel slinking at their backs.

The next ladder ended in a manhole cover and Leon insisted on going first. God, Claire wanted to fight him over that, but she wasn’t ready to start that argument again in front of Sherry. Instead she nodded and waited at the bottom, gun in hand. Waited as Leon carefully nudged the cover up to peer through. Waited for white, blood streaked hands to shoot through the gap to claw at him.

“All clear, come on up,” Leon called down, shoving the cover further aside.

The parking lot was lit by the headlights of an abandoned police cruiser parked just outside, the bright white leaving everything in contrast, deathly pale and shadowed by measures. None of the cars seemed immediately drivable, but more importantly, the gate at the entrance was closed.

Two steps forward, one step back.

“Go see if you can get the gate up, I’m going to see if there’s a spare key around here,” Leon said.

Claire nodded, heading off. Sherry followed behind her, seemingly vaguely more comfortable with her than him for whatever reason.

“So, what’s your mom like?” Claire asked, their footsteps echoing in uneven rhythm off the concrete walls.

“She works at Umbrella. She’s making important new medicine.”

“Umbrella? That big pharmaceutical company?” There was a key reader on the wall next to the gate, but no sign of the key to open it. Damned automatic locks.

“My mom’s always at work, I don’t get to see her much.”

“Well hopefully you’ll get to see her again soon.” The words were more or less automatic as Claire’s mind spun through dealing with yet another problem. Experimentally she knelt and tugged on the gate, but unsurprisingly it didn’t move an inch. If they were going to get out, they would have to find a key card. Claire groaned internally at the thought of having to do more searching through even more rooms for the one thing that would let them out.

“Sherry?” The unfamiliar voice sent Claire to her feet. Someone else was alive in this hellhole? “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Sherry.”

Out of the shadows came an older man, grey hair and mustache, heavy set and thick jowled. His collared shirt and vest were rumpled, but clean. Claire glanced down at Sherry, looking for recognition from the girl, but she seemed just as wary as before.

“Brave little girl to leave your house in the middle of this mess.” His tone was somewhere between fond and patronizing, an uncle or an old family friend.

And then he drew on them, gun aimed squarely at Claire’s chest. “On the ground, hands behind your head.”

“You can’t be serious.” Her brain was racing, trying to keep up. What was happening? Had she missed something? Where the fuck was Leon?

There was a gunshot crack and a shatter of glass as the window on the car behind Claire exploded into slivers that caught the light like falling stars. By the time she could tear her eyes away, the gun was back on her.

“On the ground. Now.”

She complied.

“Sherry, tie her hands.” The man pulled out a small length of cord from his back pocket and tossed it at the girl’s feet.

“Why are you doing this?” Sherry asked, already on the edge tears.

“Shut up. Tie her.”

“Put the gun down.” 

Claire didn’t dare turn her head to see, didn’t dare move at all, but out of the corner of her eye she could just catch Leon stepping up on her right, his footsteps measured and careful. She could picture the rest of him that she couldn’t see, his handgun out in front of him in a textbook perfect stance, his gaze fixed and sure.

There was a single heartbeat of still silence. And then the man smiled, but it was cold and empty. “I know who you are. Leon S. Kennedy, the new kid. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to point a gun at a commanding officer, boy?”

“... Chief Irons? What’s going on?”

“Lower the gun, rookie.”

Claire felt she was hardly breathing, every muscle tensed, every never alight, every-

The second gunshot shattered nothing but the tension, its impact silent. The thud of a body hitting the concrete came a moment after.

“Leon!” The cry tore from her chest almost on pure instinct as she watched him fall and not get up again. As if she could will him to be fine with her desperation alone.

Irons took a step closer, the still smoking gun a handbreadth from Claire’s temple. “Tie her up now,” he ground out to Sherry, “or she dies too.”

Sherry’s hands were shaking as she nudged Claire’s arms down and tied her wrists, her breath coming in panicked gasps. For her part, Claire was furious, a rising rage at this bastard for killing  _ Leon _ , who only wanted to help, who ran into danger to save her, who wore his heart on his sleeve until some fucker put a bullet through it.

“What’s this all about?” she gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Child endangerment, for starters.” Irons was so goddamn casual about the whole thing, like it doesn’t matter that he’d just murdered one of his own officers in cold blood. He swiped a key card and with an electronic beep of acknowledgement followed by a grinding rattle the gate opened. Claire had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming at the sheer injustice of the whole situation.

“Sherry, come here.” Irons gestured with the gun.

Claire spat, “What are you going to do to her?”

“None of your fucking business.” 

It was her business now, with the weight on a dead man’s promise on her shoulders. “If you hurt her, I swear to god, my brother is STARS and I will fucki-”

The kick to her ribs cut off the rest of her threat and sent her toppling to the floor, unable to catch herself with her hands bound. But the pain was distant, lost to the white hot anger that burned through every vein.

“Sherry, get over here.”

Sherry was still rooted in place with terror, eyes wide. Amid everything else, Claire found a kernel of pity for her. Leon had offered her safety, and now-

“What’s your name?” Irons knelt over Claire, and when she didn’t immediately answer, grabbed the back of her head to yank her closer to his gun. “What’s your fucking name!?”

She was going to kill him. She was going to kill Irons and she was going to be glad to do it. But that meant she has to survive right now. Survive and get revenge. That was what mattered. “Claire.”

“Sherry, you come with me now, or say goodbye to Claire!”

Sherry was almost visibly shaking no. “Okay, okay, I’ll go! You better be taking me to my mom.”

“Absolutely,” Irons lied.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s full of shit!”

Irons pistol whipped her for that, and that pain finally broke through her boiling rage, the taste of copper flooding her mouth.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” Sherry begged.

Irons grabbed Sherry, dragging her away. “Don’t tell me how to do my job!”

There was a metal grate on the floor of the parking garage. And there was a little shard of metal sticking up from it that nicked Claire when she fell. And it wasn’t like Sherry did a particularly good job of tying her hands.

“Stop! Let me go! Let me go!” Sherry was practically crying now, white tennis shoes scrabbling uselessly against the concrete.

Irons sounded outright sadistic as he replied, “Obviously no one taught you manners! We’ll fix that.”

If Claire could just get her hands free she could grab Sherry, pull her gun and put a bullet through Irons’ head-

The cord snapped. Claire jumped to her feet, running to the exit. Just as the gate slammed back into place with a metallic finality that cracked something already broken inside her.

“I’ll get you, you fucker!” she screamed at Irons’ departing figure, kicking the gate in useless frustration. Her fingers latched onto the cold metal, gripping it so hard her knuckles went white. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to face his body and the puddle of fresh blood on the garage floor, didn’t want to force herself to go through the supplies he was carrying, to decide what she could take and what she would have to leave behind. She would have to leave behind far too much.

But Sherry needed her, and revenge was now branded into her chest. So Claire took a moment, steadied her breath-

And almost, almost but not quite, missed the small groan from behind her.

She whirled on the spot, a knife’s edge of hope slicing into her heart even as her hand dropped to her gun. She found herself praying that if there was any god still looking down at this nightmare, don’t make her put him down.

But Leon wasn’t staring at her with milky dead eyes and feral bloodlust. He was still on the floor where he fell, trying to push himself up while one hand held his shoulder, crimson running between his fingers.

“Leon!” Claire practically collapsed to her knees next to him, gently pushing him back down. “Hey, hey, just lie still, okay?”

He looked up at her, his gaze hazy with pain. “Claire, you have to go after them.”

“I know, I will, but let’s see if we can’t patch you up first.”

Gently she pried his fingers away. The shot hit his shoulder, just to the side of the strap of his vest. The collarbone was undoubtedly broken, but it seemed the bullet had gone all the way through and hadn’t lodged itself somewhere. Claire tried to be as careful as possible through her examination, but Leon still bit back cries of pain.

“You’re gonna be fine,” she murmured as she rummaged through her pouch to pull out bandages and antiseptic and damn that was going to hurt, wasn’t it. “Turns out the chief is a pretty lousy shot.”

Well, good enough to entirely miss the bulletproof vest. But not good enough to land a-

Stop. Don’t think about it. Leon was alive and that was what mattered, not what could’ve been, not the images that still flashed through her head of bloody bullet holes and splattered brain matter, chunks of gore across the grey-

Leon grabbed her wrist, his congealing blood smearing across her skin. “Claire,” he said, deadly earnest, “you have to go. It’s not safe here.”

As if on cue she heard the distant growling of a zombie, low and menacing, but goddamnit she’d been hearing that sound all night. She wasn’t about to turn tail now.

“Leon Kennedy, if you think that I’m going to leave you behind then you don’t know the first damn thing about me. We’ll find somewhere safer. C’mon.”

She hauled him to his feet, steadying him as he swayed some with an arm around his waist. His skin was cool and clammy, his steps hesitant and uncertain, his breathing too fast for their cautious pace. It was textbook shock, and Claire realized with a painful start that she could still lose him to this. He needed somewhere to rest,  _ now _ . And she had to save him and Sherry.

There was nothing for it but to set her jaw, keep ahold of her gun, and keep moving forward.


End file.
